Recovering
by Melody Tonks
Summary: Hermione has a dark secret. For a long time it has remained unknown, but when someone finds out, what will happen? WARNING: Self harm, may be triggering
1. Chapter 1: Discovery

**My first Fanfiction ever. I was sick and bored, and this poured out. Includes self-harm and may be triggering. This is not a work of art, I am aware I move too quickly with my writing, and that there are errors. Constructie criticism is welcome. **

Hermione sighed glumly at her meal laid in front of her, she had forced herself to eat half of it, but found it impossible to continue. At the Grimuald Place table were the Weasleys' (minus Bill and Charlie), Harry, Sirius, Lupin and several other Order members laughing over their plates of food merrily. No one seemed to notice her forlorn expression, so she quickly stood up to scrape her food into the scraps bin and pile her plate by the sink. Everyone then seemed to follow her lead, and left the kitchen for the library.

Hermione normally helped Mrs Weasley with the dishes, and was vaguely surprised when Lupin gently placed his hand on Mrs Weasley's arm and said he would handle the dishes. Mrs Weasley instantly began scolding him, telling him she could do it.

"You've already cooked dinner Molly, have a rest." He said.

"Oh fine, if you insist. Hermione can dry as usual." Hermione acknowledge Mrs Weasley by nodding as she shuffled out of the room. They preferred to do dishes by hand, as occasionally the magic would interfere with the wards and the whole building would go into lockdown, not letting anyone in or out.

The kitchen was small, for Mrs Wealsey did not find it appropriate for the kitchen to be in the basement where it originally was for the house elves. At then end of the long room a few members from the order has set up a small unit. It was only a few meters long, with a sink, and rickety cupboards above the bench, but it suited its purpose.

Lupin smiled at Hermione as he rolled up his sleeves and plugged the sink, "How're you doing Hermione? You were very quiet at dinner." He observed, adding the soap to the water. Hermione looked down quickly at the tea towel in her hands, making sure her sleeves were hiding her wrists and then back up. "Oh, um, I'm just a bit tired. Studying and everything."

"Are you really studying already?" He asked incredulously, "It's not even two weeks into the holidays!"

"I like to be on top of things." Hermione rebuttaled. Honestly, she got enough rubbish from Ron and Harry about her studying habits.

The sink was full of soapy water now, and Lupin had started to wash the plates and was piling them into the rack.

"Fair enough. I remember getting a lot of flack from Sirius about my reading all the time, I imagine it's the same with Ron and Harry?"

He had hit the nail right on the mark.

"Yeah, all the time. I can barley do anything without Ron breathing down my neck. It's infuriating."

Just as Hermione was reaching up to put a plate on the top shelf above where she was standing Lupin turned to glance at her, and was shocked in the least to say by her hip. Hermione's shirt had ridden up when she went to stretch to the top shelf and revealed a set of cuts dotted with dried blood down her side. Some looked newer than others, while some had only just started to heal, and others had scarred over completely.

"Hermione..." He gasped as she quickly pulled down her top and looked around wide-eyed.

"How did you get them?" He asked calmly, preparing himself for an ill-thought lie.

Hermione hesitated, he obviously knew how she had gotten them, but was giving her a chance to protect her secret.

"I slipped when I went walking yesterday. On concrete." She tried to lie, but Lupin just observed her in disbelief.

"That doesn't look much like a graze to me." He stated as Hermione stood taller and squared her shoulders. "Well it it." She replied.

"Merlin Hermione, why haven't you talked to anyone?!" He quizzed her, obviously concerned.

"Because it's none of their business, and it's not yours either, Lupin." She sneered.

Lupin slammed down the scrubber he had to been using to clean the dishes. Her arrogance was starting to irritate him, couldn't she see how bad this was? That sort of behaviour is destructive, and he certainly knew first hand.

Lupin's shoulders sagged hopelessly, and he ran his hand through his hair in a frustrated fashion. "Both of us know what you're doing, Hermione. You need help, I can help you."

"Were you not listening to me?" she hissed, her eyes flashing, "I don't need anybody's help, especially not yours!"

"You do, you're just not in the state of mind to accept it."

"Leave me alone!" She whispered a scream at Lupin, dropped her tea towel on the counter and started to march out of the room when she was grabbed by the shoulder.

"You can stay and finish drying the dishes." Snarled Lupin, getting very frustrated. Hermione figured it wouldn't be a good look to storm out of the kitchen with a scowl on her face and an angry ex-Professor behind her.

They washed and dried the rest of the dishes in a stiff silence while both of them cooled off. By the time they were done with the seemingly endless amount of dishes it was forty-five minutes later and both of them were still seething slightly, Hermione more than Lupin.

Hermione hung her tea towel on the oven rail and Lupin cleaned all the water off the bench. When she turned to leave Lupin spoke again.

"I'm sorry for attacking you Hermione, it's a very private matter, I can understand why you did not want to discuss your problems with me, but if you do need to talk I'm here." He explained his position.

"Whatever." Replied Hermione, walking out of the room She was angry that she had been so careless to let her secret be exposed, and in response had shut down. It was her secret, something she _needed_, and now someone was trying to stop her.

Hermione trudged up the the three sets of stairs, only just holding in her tears, but as soon as she closed the door to her room they burst out like a dam. Slowly and shaking Hermione pulled open her bedside drawer and cracked open a wooden box where a few razors rested and picked the sharpest one out. She slowly fingered the blade, running the sharp side down her finger to test it. A few dots of blood were left in is wake, the blade was good.

When she had pulled up her sleeve far enough Hermione dragged the blade across her wrist, assaulting the already scarred surface. Blood slowly trickled down her wrists, and Hermione drank the sight in. Feeling like a load had been taken off her shoulders Hermione eased the drawer contain her razors closed. She then drew her wand and siphoned it off, as the blood had clotted. Hermione lay back on the bed and fell into a troubled sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: The Talk

**Hi everyone. Just like to clear up that Hermione is in the summer between her 4th and 5th year. **

**This chapter may have a few mistakes, because I am posting this from my phone. I will fix them as soon as I get a computer. Thank you to reviewers. **

Two days later Hermione, Ron and Ginny were slouching around the dank library trying to pass time. Most of them almost wished it was time to go back for their fifth year, and for Ginny, her fourth year at Hogwarts. They were passing the time by guessing what sort of character their next DADA teacher would be.

"...Scrawny git who picks his nose when he thinks no one's looking..."

"...A crazy cat lady.."

"...Fat warty old man who can barley lift his own arm..."

"...Stuck up pom..."

"What do you think Hermione?" Asked Ron enthusiastically, jolting her out of her haze.

"Oh I don't know, it could be anyone."

"well that's the point of the game Hermione, guess what sort we're gonna get, duh." Ginny explained patiently, Hermione had this habit of opening a book and then being lost inside it for hours, and when trying to get her attention you had to be patient.

"I dunno, a vampire, I guess?" Hermione replied. This whole game was pointless, maybe they could get a decent teacher this year, and they were jinxing it.

"Are you just saying that 'cause we've already had a werewolf?" Asked Ron, incredulously.

"Honestly, I am not. I said it because it was the first thing that came into my mind, and it's rude to refer to someone as 'a werewolf" as they are a human being just like you."

"Alright alight, you don't need to go all SPEW on us." Harry interrupted.

"It's S.P.E.W. as you very well know Harry."

"Whatever, anyone want to go get some food?" Asked Harry.

"Yes."

"Okay."

"Maybe later." Said Hermione, "I really want to finish this chapter."

"We'll be down in the kitchen then, be quick or Ron will eat everything in sight."

"Shut up Ginny."

The group trudged out of the dingy library, down to the kitchen where most the occupants of the house would be for lunch, including Sirius, the Weasleys and Lupin. Hermione turned back to her book, and realized that she'd been reading the same sentence over and over again, and even worse, she didn't even know what the book was about and she was on the 100th page. Sighing, she gave up and closed the book.

For weeks now she hadn't been able to concentrate on anything written, it seemed like she was illiterate, nothing made sense. She had to force herself to read, it was like a dementor has sucked all the life out of her books, leaving them just a shell. It's not like she hated reading, not at all, reading was one of her favourite things, but she just couldn't concentrate. I didn't help that another thought was picking at her mind every second of the day, and some of her cuts were itching.

Lupin knew that she hurt herself, maybe he would tell someone else that she does, then they would take away all her razors, and if he didn't tell maybe he would try to take them away. It wasn't fair, she wasn't hurting anybody but herself, and he was acting like it's bigger than it is. Hermione had seen him this morning at breakfast, he kept glancing over at her while she chatted with Ginny about Ginny's coursework for the next year. If he told anyone or tried to stop her life wouldn't be worth living anymore, she might as well jumped under the next bus.

When she thought about it, it wasn't a very unattractive idea, but she liked the idea of jumping even more. Hermione could imagine the wind rushing through her hair and her clothing ripping in the wind, then hitting the ground and not feeling anything.

Stop! She mentally scolded herself. The only reason she was still on earth was because of her family and friends, even of they didn't know what was going on she still couldn't leave them like that, with no explanation, a note wouldn't be able to explain how she felt.

While she was absorbed in her thoughts Hermione had been staring blankly at her book, and hadn't noticed the man who had entered the room and shut the door. Slowly she became aware of another persons presence, startled and then blushed slightly as her ex-professor sat opposite her in a large wingback chair.

"Professor Lupin." Hermione politely greeted him, deciding to act civilly.

"Good morning Hermione," He replied solemnly, and Hermione's heart plummeted, "Call me Remus, I'm no longer your Professor."

Remus had previously decided that it would benefit to communicate with Hermione on a more private level, it could make her more open to discussion or more willing to talk to another person about her issues. If he truly wanted to help Hermione then he would need to put in a lot of effort to help her open up, and not treat her like she was stupid.

She seemed so different from when he had first meet her, she was still as smart and as confident, but she had lost a glow that she use to maintain in his classroom. He had noticed it long before he had seen her scars and guessed that she was hiding something, and yesterday it had been confirmed. It was like a dementor was hanging on her shoulder.

Remus knew how she felt, he himself had gone through something very similar, and it had be hard for him to break free. He wanted to help her, and support her, not force her to stop, just like he had wanted someone to do for him.

"Are you feeling okay today?" He asked cautiously.

"I'm fine." Hermione replied in clipped tones. "I'm just reading."

"I can see. What's it about?"

"Well its about ... um ... you see this ... ah—"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine." Hermione said reproachfully, "I just," She paused, "You wouldn't understand."

Remus sighed.

"I think I do understand Hermione. When I was about your age, fifteen, I did exactly what you're doing now. The transformations were hard on my family, my parents fought constantly and then they separated. I took it quite hard, and started lashing out. I started on my arms, then moved on to any other part of my body I could. I have many scars, from the transformations, accidents and other things, but I gained a lot more by hurting myself. By the time I was ready to heal them years later it was too late and they had scarred over, even now I still have them. I have to be careful now, so that no body sees them, doing things such as always wearing longs sleeves, and glamours. It's a pain, and I want to help you, you don't need to feel like this. I won't tell anyone as long as you agree to let me help you."

While Lupin was telling his story Hermione felt slightly ashamed, and slightly privileged that he had shared his story with her. She felt numb yet hot at the same time, like she was floating. He had a reason to have done it, Hermione just felt alone and under pressure.

"Fine." She said stubbornly and added hastily, "But you can't tell anybody, even Dumbledore."

"I won't unless you do something stupid."

"Are you trying to threaten me!? I don't need your charity!" Hermione said, slightly outraged.

"No, of course not," Lupin furiously back-peddled, "But if you do something drastic then I think I would need to inform Dumbledore, or your parents."

Hermione went a sickly pale, remembering what she had thought about not five minutes ago. "You can't tell my parents. You just can't."

"And I won't, not unless you do something stupid." He replied putting emphasis on each word.

Hermione was silent for a moment, they could both hear the laughter and chatting two levels down, they could hear the grandfather clock in the hall ticking, and Kreacher banging around in a cupboard.

"Did you ever think about it?" Hermione asked softly and Remus' heart broke, "About falling, or not waking up, or sleeping forever, and just feeling nothing?"

"I did– I do."

"I don't want to feel anything anymore. Which is ridiculous, because I hurt myself to feel something, because I feel nothing."

"I know how you feel, Hermione. Sometimes it just seems like nothing will ever get better and you're just stuck in a limbo, like no one understands, and it just feels better to block everything out, to not care, and it's not the right way to express your emotions." His voice broke halfway through his little speech, and he faltered a lot.

They were both silent for a few moments.

"Why haven't you done it?" He asked, looking frustrated with his elbows resting on his knees.

"Because– I don't– I think because I can't bear doing that to my friends and family."

Remus simply nodded, "I understand."

Suddenly Sirius poked his head around the door frame, looking giddy. "Knock knock! Hurry up you two, stop talking books! Fred and George put a new product they're testing into the food, now Molly's acting like a teenager, so is Kingsley, you have to see this."

Remus and Hermione both rose, their conversation cut off early and followed a sniggering Sirius down the the dinning room.

**I'll try to get the next chapter up some time in the next two weeks. Merry Christmas!**


	3. Chapter 3: The Paranoia

**Hi guys! Sorry I didn't get this to you as fast as I planned. I've been having computer problems and as a result won't be able to work from a computer, only my iPhone. So please excuse any mistakes. Thank you all for the reviews/favourites/followers. **

Amaya2278: Thank you. ^.^ I'm recovering from self harm and using this as a kind of therapy.

TheLittleDarkFox: Aw thank you so much. It annoys me when people mild the characters to fit their liking too much, so I try to keep away from that.

LittleBigMouthOKC: Hermione obviously wasn't share this knowledge, now she'll have to deal with people trying to change her. Dun dun daaah.

BigTimeGleekBTR: Thanks, I'll try to update more often from now on :D

_"Lady Madonna, children at your feet..."_

Hermione slowly closed her book, she was still having problems concentrating, and the loud music in the background wasn't helping. It was mid-afternoon a few days after she had talked to Remus about her issues and still everyone remained oblivious, thank Merlin he hadn't told anyone. It was adding a lot more stress to Hermione, who was already paranoid about her behavior. What if someone noticed her flinching when something brushed her wounds, or saw her rubbing her fingers over her bumpy wrist? Long story short, it was freaking her out and she didn't know what to do.

Nothing worth mentioning had happened in the large house, Fred and George were yelled and scolded for hours after Kingsley and Mrs Weasley had come down from their "teen high". Mrs Weasley, to the horror of her children, had been asking if there were any good parties around, and if she could borrow someone's dress, preferably something tight and skin hugging, while Kingsley promptly asked if anyone had a joint he could smoke. Frankly, it was disturbing.

Hermione hadn't been doing much apart from studying. She knitted for a bit and tried to sort out her trunk, which was pointless because she had already done it hundreds of times. Harry and herself had tried to get the VCR and television set to work, but because of all the enchantments on the house the most they could get was a burst of static and faint sound, without a picture. At least the record player worked, that was probably the most recent form of technology in the house.

Hermione and Harry had taken a few people to a record shop, along with some escorts and they had found a few records and relatively cheap prices. These records were currently blaring through the house, slightly muffled my her door. Like most things the Wizarding world was behind on music, The Beatles, The Smiths and ABBA were playing, but Sirius insisted on playing some Pink Floyd, which Hermione liked but Mrs Weasley did not approve of, thinking it would give the children ideas. Most of the arguments ended with, "It's my bloody house and I'll listen to what I want!"

Hermione was sitting on the bed in her room with the door closed, she had previously been staying in the same room as Ginny but a few rooms had been cleared out so almost everyone had their own rooms now, with a few to spare for Order members who need to stay for a night or two.

The room was pretty basic, a single four poster bed, similar to the ones at Hogwarts, minus the curtains, a bedside table, wardrobe, a small desk and a dresser opposite the bed. Most of the furniture was a dark polish wood, but aged and worn, neglected for years. It was far from modern, like Hermione was used to at her parents house. The floor beams creaked when you stood on them, and it smelt slightly musty.

Finally, the music stopped, but she knew it wouldn't be long before the next record was on the player.

Hermione's desk had been placed in her room curtsy of Mr Weasley, who had transported it from his shed outside The Burrow to Grimmuald Place after he saw her working at the dining room on a summer project. The desk was very well organised, as she hadn't used it very much yet, a few large books laid in a pile, with seemingly random page markers placed in them, a notebook, a few quills and inkpots, next to some muggle writing tools.

Sirius and Harry had been spending a lot of time together in Buckbeak's room, Hermione guessed they were talking about Harry's parents. Sometimes Remus would join them, one time carrying a box full of photos for Harry, ones he had duplicated. Harry had shown her one of him being pushed in a swing at a muggle playground by his father, trying to kick James every time he swung forwards. Lily was standing off at the side laughing, and trying to push her long hair out of her face because of the strong wind. They looked at ease. Happy.

He had then disappeared into his room where he had been for the past few hours, probably looking at all his photos. Hermione was sympathetic towards him, obviously she couldn't relate to him very well, but she had an idea of how he might feel. She loved her parents, they weren't as bigger part of her life than they used to be, but she couldn't imagine not having them there. Parents are like a rock in your teenage years, there to keep you grounded, or there to drag you down.

_"Good times for a change, see, the luck I've had, can make a good man go bad..._"

Great. Hermione thought sarcastically, a depressing song, just what she needed. She loved The Smiths but there were moments where you just didn't listen to them, like when you're trying to get something done or you need to uplift your mood.

_"...So please please please, let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time..."_

Slowly and careful, glancing towards the door and listening closely, Hermione pulled out a drawer in the bedside table, opened the wooden box inside and started her bi-daily ritual. She was so absorbed in her task she didn't notice a knock at the bedroom door, until it started to creak open.

"Hang on a minute!" She yelled at the door as she hastily threw everything bad into the drawer and pulled out a bandage which she quickly wrapped around her arm to prevent blood getting on her clothing and yanked down her sleave.

"Come in." Hermione called out.

"Hey!" Ginny greeted Hermione and casually walked over to sit on the bed. "Why d'ya have to sit in here all the time, I hardly see you, and Ron's been driving me absolutely mad!"

"Sorry," Hermione cringed guiltily, "I was trying to do the project Snape set us. It's a really big one..."

"You'll get it done in time, don't worry! Harry and Ron probably haven't even started. You could at least sit in the library and do it?" Ginny asked.

"I couldn't, it would be nearly impossible. You know, I was researching for my project in there and Professor Snape came in and started glaring at me and said that it would take more than books to finish the assignment, and I'd actually have to use my brain!" Hermione indulged in a bit of whining, hoping to deter Ginny.

"Are you serious? I can't believe they let him teach! Just because it's outside of school..."

Hermione caved in to her respect of teachers. "Well he is still our professor, and all the work he does for Dumbledore, you'd be a bit grumpy, wouldn't you? Besides, I will have to use my brain a lot for this assignment."

"Yeah a bit," Ginny snorted, "But I wouldn't try to murder every 11 year old I saw with a single look."

"I suppose so..."

"Anyway, Mum said dinner would be really in about half an hour." Said Ginny as she got up to leave.

"Thanks, I'll be down soon."

Hermione waited until the door clicked before rolling her sleeve back up and carefully unwrapping the bandages. She would need to replace them. The soiled bandage went into a plastic bag in the drawer, until she could dispose of it later, and she grabbed another bandage. This time Hermione took more care rolling it around her arm and keeping it as smooth as possible.

"Dinner's ready!" She heard Mrs Weasley yell up the stairs, and a thunder of footsteps outside her door. Hermione pulled herself up and speedily walked down the stairs after Ron and before Fred.

**So, what do you guys think? Something dramatic may be happening next chapter...**


	4. Chapter 4: Attempt

**Just a quick update, I'm looking for a beta if anyone is interested. I would like everyone to remember that I write from my phone, and upload from it, so there will be grammar/spelling mistakes. **

**WARNING: This chapter contains attempted suicide, please use your digression. **

**DISCLAIMER: The Harry Potter universe does not belong to be, I'm just borrowing.**

**THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN EDITED SINCE IT WAS FIRST PUBLISHED**

Hermione was nervous at dinner, her eyes darted around the room like a fly, even Ron noticed and inquired what was wrong. She replied with nothing. Professor Snape was there, rolling his eyes every time someone said anything he disagreed with. The plate in front of her was growing cold, Hermione excused herself by explaining that she was feeling unwell and would be upstairs resting in her room. Everyone looked slightly concerned apart from Snape but particularly Remus.

"It's probably just a virus, nothing a simple potion can't cure. She can have a pepper up after we finish dinner..." Hermione heard Mrs Weasley faintly in the background and scoffed. There would be no need for a potion. Hermione only made a stop in her bedroom to get her box, three sheets of assorted pills, a piece of paper and a muggle pen, as well as a bottle of vodka from under her mattress. Hermione then tiptoed to the upstairs bathroom, the one with the bath.

She closed the door but made no attempt to lock it, to make it less of hassle for the people who would discover her. Hermione then started running the bath and sat on the toilet seat.

Dinner had barely started, and desert was still left to serve, so she shouldn't be disturbed for a while. Hermione could only hope that none of her friends would find her and it was an adult, someone who wouldn't be so affected by what she was doing. Of course it would be horribly unfair on whoever found her, maybe she could put it off for a few days... just disappear... never to be seen again, under a bridge or in an abandoned house somewhere.

Hermione wondered to herself about people's reactions, if maybe they'd cry, if they'd say things like 'she seemed so happy'. What would her eulogy be like? Would it put her in a good light and ignore all her mistakes? Maybe it would be funny and entertaining. Probably not, she wasn't a comedian. She felt guilty about not seeing her parents for a few weeks, they deserved more than her. Maybe she should wait? No, she decided, she wouldn't see them for months anyway.

The paper rustled as Hermione positioned it over her knee so she could write easily.

"Dear friends and family,

I am sorry. I shouldn't do this but I am going to. I am sorry for not telling anyone and sorry for the pain which this will cause you, but I feel like I can no longer live the way I am. Please don't feel sorry for me, I would never be happy again alive.

Love, hugs and kisses, Hermione."

Hermione's writing was shaky and occasionally she stabbed holes in the thin sheet. She had decided to go through with this plan as everyone watched her at dinner. It had been forming in her mind for months, and everyone was going to find out about her habit soon, she was paranoid. Hermione had stolen muggle pills from her father and the vodka from her neighbours after the teenage son hosted a party. If she didn't succeed in killing herself externally with her knife then the alcohol and pills inside her should finish the job, abate slowly. If someone found her before the pills could kill her then the internal damage should be bad enough that she wouldn't be saveable. Overachieving as always, she jeered to herself. Maybe ironically, that would be the last thing they remembered her for.

She didn't feel nervous, or afraid, she wasn't shaking anymore, now that her fate was set in stone. It felt like a huge weight was being taken off her shoulders, Hermione felt more at peace then she had in a long time. She didn't have to stress about exams, the war, having a career, living on her own, children, paying bills, she would never have that now and thinking of all the made her feel slightly nostalgic.

Hermione raised the bottle of vodka to her mouth and gulped before spluttering, it tasted foul. After a while Hermione stop caring about the taste, everything felt numb, the bath was almost overflowing, she had swallowed the pills and she was starting to feel very woozy. There was no way she was going to fail.

Before she lost consciousness Hermione stumbled over to the bath and scrambled into it, with her clothing still on and grabbed her box. Some water sloshed over the edge, Hermione hadn't bothered turning off the water. She didn't care, her clothing was waterlogged within seconds. In her box was a bowie knife, she hadn't used it yet, so it would be nice and sharp. Marvelling at the glittering blade with wide eyes Hermione slowly pulled up both her sleeves. If she was lucky she could take out both arms, but it was likely she'd only get one. Hermione giggled, she was delirious.

Instead of slashing across the wrist horizontally, Hermione pressed the blade at the vein on her shaking wrist, and as precisely as she could in her weakened state drew the blade upwards, while putting as much pressure on it as possible.

"I have become comfortably numb..." She sang in a warped voice, watching the blood gush out of her arm and swirl through the water. She could only feel something resembling the tingling you get when get pins and needles. Hermione fumbled around, swapping her knife hand for one which could barely grip the handle and shakily drew it up her other arm, creating a jerky line, not as deep or clean as the other, but she was losing strength fast.

Nothing could stop her now. The water was a pale pink now, still streaming over the edge. Looks like tie dye... She though. Once Hermione had tie dyed a t shirt with her Mum. It was fun. The water was flowing out of the bath onto the white tiled floor and under the door then drenching the carpet in the hallway. Her fist clutching the knife unclenched and the blade clattered on porcelain. Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head and she lost consciousness.

Hermione didn't see the first person to find her, she didn't notice being pulled out of the bath, the group of friends gathered around the door or the frantic yelling. She didn't even notice the betrayed look of the one person she confined in.

**Whoo. Edited it a bit and took out Snape's PoV. I decided I wanted just Hermione's in this story. **


	5. Chapter 5: Waking Up

**Sorry it's been a while guys. I had a huge back log of work. I still haven't decided if this is going to be a romantic story or not, do you guys want Remus and Hermione together in the end or not?**

Hermione blinked the sleep out of her eyes and slowly opened them to see dust swirling in a streak of sunlight from an open curtain. Dazed and confused, Hermione bolted up and frantically looked around. This isn't her room. Where was she? Obviously not dead, right? She noticed that she was dressed in her own comfy PJs, then quickly rolled up the sleeves, and there they were. Two long, healed, puckered scars. Either she had been out for incredibly long or someone had healed her, otherwise these scars wouldn't look like they had been there for years. Hermione glanced at the bedside table and saw her wand wasn't there.

Cautiously Hermione swung her legs out of the bed and stood, trying to make as little noise as possible, she didn't want to alert anyone of her awaken state. Slowly she creeped towards the door, taking care of the creaking floorboards and nails poking through the floor. A quick glance out the window told her that it was indeed daytime, and she was in a two story building that appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. She silently cursed when her PJ trousers hem caught on a rusty nail, and lent down to unhook it. The floor groaned and Hermione felt her heartbeat get faster. The door was partly open, whoever was holding her hostage obviously didn't care about her leaving the room.

The landing was covered in a red and grey carpet, thick with dust, with a pattern Hermione was sure that her Grandparents had in their own home. Hermione was only down the first stair when she heard the a key in a lock, presumably the front door, ran back into her room and jumped back into her bed.

For the next ten or so minutes Hermione could hear plastic bags rustling, cupboards opening and closing, as well as heavy footsteps. She wondered who it could be, if she was truly dead then she was sure none of this would be happening, so Hermione pondered over who it could be. She had been in the Order's headquarters, it was unlikely it was anyone from the opposing side, probably someone from the Order, or even her parents. But if it was her parents then she would be at her own home, so it must be someone from the Order, Hermione concluded. Crap, she thought, whoever it was they would lecture her for days on end about how things would have gotten better, how she could have talked to someone. Did Remus tell anyone that she had talked to him? Hermione hoped it wasn't him, she didn't think she'd be able to face him after promising not to do anything harmful.

Hermione felt herself get clammy as she heard the person climb the stairs, she didn't like lying in the bed pretending to be asleep, it made her feel so vulnerable. Maybe they would walk straight past, oh god, oh god. Hermione's breath got fast and she worked incredibly hard to get it back to a normal speed. The footsteps stopped outside her door, and she heard a few light knocks and her name before the door was pushed open.

"Hermione? Are you awake?"

Was that Remus? Hermione couldn't tell, the person was speaking in a whisper, although they were definitely male. Slowly Hermione pushed herself up into a sitting position, and looked up. She saw Remus standing in the doorway, looking very concerned. "Hermione...? Are you okay?"

"Where am I?" She demanded, "Why am I here? Where's my wand?!"

Hermione twirled the edge of her sheet around her finger, nervous. Would she be getting a lecture now?

"You're here because Dumbledore wanted you to go to a place where you feel safe, he also requested I take your wand. We're in England, but I can't tell you where exactly."

"Why not?'

"Dumbledore's request. An non-appariting spell has been placed on you to still you from leaving."

"What if I want to leave? What if I want to go home? School starts in three weeks!"

"Things will be fine, Hermione."

Hermione tried so hard not to cry, but her body was racked with sobs and her vision blurred over. "I d-d-don't want... I don't want to st-stay here. You can't make m-me!"

"I'm sorry Hermione, but that's the way it is. You tried to do something stupid and now you have to pay for your actions."

Hermione didn't even consider her answer before screaming at Remus. "But that was the whole point of me being dead! I wouldn't have to do any of this!"

"I'm sorry Hermione."

"Just go away." Hermione demanded into monotone.

The door closed and Hermione heard muffled footsteps, she was just glad that he had left, but as the door closed she felt more alone than ever. She flung herself into her pillow and cried for an hour. The sun was setting and it was getting dark. Hermione estimated it was around 8 PM, and she set about looking around her room. The only things in it were a bed, a bedside table and a large wooden wardrobe with a few drawers at the bottom. All her clothes were on hangers, and she wasted no time finding her favourite t shirt and comfiest jeans. When she had all her clothes on Hermione sat at the edge of the queen bed and shrunk into herself. She shivered, and wished she was anywhere else but there. A ghost of a shiver ran through her as she listened to pots banging around downstairs. She hadn't eaten properly in days, but hunger was the last thing on her mind. Why was she so stupid? She was such a failure she couldn't even die properly.

"Hermione? Dinner's ready. Come downstairs please." Hermione sighed and slowly moved towards the door. She hadn't bothered to put socks on she could feel the ice-like wood under her feet. Maybe she should put some on? No point, really.

The table was small, only two places, and Remus was already sitting. There was lasagne and salad, but Hermione only took a small serving of salad, and didn't say a word. Hermione could feel Remus' eyes on her, pitying her, and she hated every minute of it. The air was thick and crackling with tension, she felt like a child caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

"Would you like me to show you around?" Remus asked when they both finished. Hermione nodded without saying anything, and they both put their dishes in the sink. "We can clean them later." Remus said.

Hermione followed as Remus lead her through the house and explained along the way. The room they had just been in was at the front of the house, it was a combined kitchen and dining space, only big enough for the small kitchen set up against the wall and a tiny two seat table. Opposite was another door, leading into a living space, which only contained two dusty sofas, an armchair, and a small coffee table. A fire place was embedded into the wall opposite the biggest sofa, but it looked like it would collapse if there was the slightest stress placed on it. This room had too little furniture for how big it was, it seems to take up most of the space downstairs, so the only thing left was a dingy toilet.

She was lead upstairs, which was a lot smaller, the whole floor consisting of only two bedrooms and a bathroom, hers and Remus', right opposite each others.

"Are you ready to sleep? I thought tomorrow we could try and clean up a bit." Remus asked.

****"Okay." Hermione whispered, with her arms wrapped around her chest. "Goodnight." And without another word between them Hermione brushed her teeth then went to bed. She would have liked to read, anything to distract herself, but she didn't have a book. Hermione fell into a fitful sleep a few hours later. She didn't notice that Remus had opened her door slightly to check on her.

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